It Steals ThingsBen rubbed the fog off the windshield with the cuff of his windbreaker, succeeding only in smearing moisture all over the glass. Rain washed down in sheets, and his struggling wipers did no more than slop it back and forth.
“Can’t see a goddamn thing,” he muttered.
It had been twenty-nine years since he escaped Partlow. Twenty-nine years of lying about where he was from, of adopting the accent and attitude of wherever it was he ended up. He remembered little of his childhood, and what he did recall was nothing more than a strobe-light of faces and names, blurred moments and sounds. His cousin, though. Mike. How could he forget him? They’d been so close, but when they were little something happened and Mike changed. He didn’t see him for years. Then in high school, he snap
